


100 Days

by MysticWysteria



Category: VIXX
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Asexual Character, Developing Friendships, Dystopia, End of the World, Friendship/Love, Multi, NaNoWriMo, NaNoWriMo 2020, Other, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:27:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27358744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MysticWysteria/pseuds/MysticWysteria
Summary: The asteroid had been detected 20 years ago. Growing up, it was all that his generation had ever known. Going to school and learning about how scientists located and tracked its progress, studying its arcing path through the cosmos, then later writing research papers on proposed methods of deflection and introspective essays on human behavior in the face of their own demise. His friends had confided their struggles in him time and time again, letting blood simmer to the surface of wounds that were torn open with every update on the news, sharing grievings and admissions of defeat in the face of the irreparable damage left by being raised into a world where the shadow of impending doom nipped at your heels around every corner. Fear of death. It was a sentiment he never shared. Humans lived, they were good at that. They would die, too, every last one of them, and they were even better at that part. His gaze was sharp and hardened at the edges as he processed the words that bore down on them all.Estimated time until impact:100 days.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1 (Part 1/4)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be my first ever attempt at Nanowrimo! The finalized story will be 14 chapters total, one for each week of the last 100 days, but for sake of convenience in updating I will be posting here multiple times a week and splitting each chapter into multiple parts to upload. By the end of the month I expect to have 20-30 shorter chapters posted that I will later condense into 14 longer ones, assuming I pursue this challenge until the end.

The café doors shut, and for the first time that day, they didn’t swing back open moments later to signal the entrance of a new customer. It was just past noon, every available table had long since been occupied, and the isles between each one were packed with people standing idly with a cup of coffee in hand. It was despite this overwhelming traffic that the room had fallen deathly silent.

The central TV screen above the register was blinding in its intensity, flickering slightly as though it could sense the weight of eyes upon it. Or perhaps the brightness had never changed, Hongbin mused to himself as he watched it carefully, it was only that he hadn’t paid it much attention until right now. The red critical alert badge across the bottom was nothing unfamiliar, it graced the screen every time there was an update about the crisis. And there were always updates, forcing their way onto every device with a connection, and bringing with them the cold reminder of how fragile human mortality was.

The image displayed in the background, faded and desaturated to make way for the text it preceded, was of a large celestial body streaking through the black abyss of space. The borders of the image were darkened as if to instill a sense of foreboding, but there was no need. The thought of it alone was enough to make anyone’s stomach turn over in dread. Hongbin fiddled with the drink in his hands. Other people’s stomachs, perhaps. His own felt slightly full—from the scones he had finished and coffee he was still savoring—but there was an emptiness there too.

The asteroid had been detected 20 years ago. Growing up, it was all that his generation had ever known. Going to school and learning about how scientists located and tracked its progress, studying its arcing path through the cosmos, then later writing research papers on proposed methods of deflection and introspective essays on human behavior in the face of their own demise. His friends had confided their struggles in him time and time again, letting blood simmer to the surface of wounds that were torn open with every update on the news, sharing grievings and admissions of defeat in the face of the irreparable damage left by being raised into a world where the shadow of impending doom nipped at your heels around every corner. Fear of death. It was a sentiment he never shared. Humans lived, they were good at that. They would die, too, every last one of them. They were even better at that, no one had ever failed before. His gaze was sharp and hardened at the edges as he processed the words that bore down on them all.

**Estimated time until impact**

**100 days.**

So they had calculated a date after all. He absentmindedly recalled the frustrated conversations that flitted through this same café for weeks on end.  _ What was taking them so long to calculate the time of impact? Surely they already knew every detail of its projected path? _ Hongbin’s personal suspicions had been that they already knew, had known for a while, and were simply withholding the information from the public so as not to cause a panic even more intense than the one that had been settling in more steadily every day the past two decades. The world already knew there was less than a year left, at that point, the scientists had made that much clear, withholding the exact date likely meant it was sooner than they had expected. It seemed as though he was right, now. There was only 14 weeks left.

The café door swung open and the bell above it loudly announced a new entry, then the frozen silence in the room's atmosphere shattered abruptly. Someone in the far corner let out a cry of anguish, an elderly couple grasped for each other's hands and leaned in to rest their foreheads together, and the room erupted with fervent whispers and prayers. Hongbin surveyed them all, unblinking, then bent his head to take another sip of his coffee through the straw. He never fully understood the passion with which the people around him seemed to cling to life, as though it was something precious and infinitely sacred. Then again, he supposed they had reasons to anchor themselves to it. Family, perhaps. A job they felt was meaningful. Someone at home who was waiting for them. Vulnerabilities, Hongbin thought dryly, not for the first time. Of course, vulnerability was only natural when life was so fragile.

The table he sat at gave a sudden jolt, then two hands shot forward to steady it’s edges. Hongbin raised his gaze to glower at whoever had bumped into it.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—” The table jolted again, and the boy paused to take in the frenzy of bodies around them pressing their way forwards. He seemed to realize how futile an apology would be because the words died in his mouth. He paused for a moment before cautiously asking, “Would you mind if I sat down?”

Hongbin inclined his head slightly in answer, and the boy lowered himself into the seat and immediately hung his head. He was tired, Hongbin could tell. Weren’t they all? He fumbled with a bag that was strapped across his chest, taking something out and setting it on the table, then hunched over further and seemed intently focused on holding it there. It was a few moments before Hongbin realized the boy’s shoulders were trembling slightly, and his lowered head wasn’t focusing on the object in his hands after all but hugging it tightly to his body. Hongbin cleared his throat and looked away.

Another few minutes passed, and Hongbin let his eyes drift shut as he took in the ambience of the café. It was loud, because of course it was. Plans had to be changed, or canceled, because there was no ‘putting on hold’ any longer. There were deadlines to be met. Not everyone had the luxury of being prepared for them. His eyes snapped open when he realized the boy was talking again.

“I’m sorry I just sat down here like this. There were no other seats, and my knees felt really weak, all of a sudden—so yeah,” he finished rather lamely. The exhaustion in the way he was slumped in the chair was evident, broad shoulders collapsed inwards, and Hongbin felt himself sighing.

“You don’t have anywhere to go, do you?”

The boy should have been taken back by the bluntness of the accusation, but instead he shrugged in acknowledgement.

“I don’t have family here, if that’s what you mean, but I do have someone—a friend of mine, I guess—that I’ve been living with while I finish uni. Or well, that was the plan. I guess graduating isn’t really on the table anymore.” He ended with a smile that was bitter and almost ironic. After another pause, he shook his head minutely.

“What about you? Anyone you’re staying with? You don’t seem… too concerned.”

It was an accurate observation. Hongbin swirled the last dregs of his coffee around in the cup then tipped it down his throat. It had long since lost its warmth.

“I don’t have family either,” he said rather stiffly, setting the cup down. “And you’re right. It feels like my entire life has been spent leading up to this end. So no, I’m not concerned, or scared, or anything of that sort. I’ve had long enough to be prepared.”

The boy raised his eyebrows, and while there was surprise evident in his expression, there was no disbelief.

“It doesn’t scare you then, huh. The thought of dying.”

Hongbin barked out a laugh. He realized a moment late that it came off as insensitive, and he met the other’s gaze more seriously.

“We were going to die anyway. The only difference is that now we know when.” He stood up suddenly to toss the empty cup in the trash, and when he came back to the table, his tone was more brisk.

“You should leave soon. You have a friend you’re staying with, so might as well spend this time with them.”

The boy got to his feet more slowly.

“Okay. And you? You said you didn’t have family. Do you have friends too, then? So you don’t have to be… you know.”

The word  _ alone _ was left unsaid, but its implication was heavy in the air nonetheless. Hongbin bristled.

“I live by myself. And I like it that way.”

“Alright. No, I get that. But just in case…” he placed the object he had been holding back in the bag, and Hongbin belatedly realized it was a camera.

“My name is Sanghyuk,” he continued, and held his hand out. An offer. “Let me see your phone.”

Hongbin squinted back with a distrust he didn’t bother trying to hide. But the kid seemed honest enough, one hand still extended palm up, and the other tugging the strap of his camera case. With a resigned sigh he took out his phone. Sanghyuk took it with a hum of satisfaction and proceeded to open his contacts, then handed his phone back after typing something out.

“Here's my number. The friend I’m staying with, Hakyeon, he’s a great guy. I think you’d like him. If you ever wanna like, hang out with us, we’d be down. Unless you have other plans.”

Hongbin wanted to laugh again at the sheer irony of the statement, the thought of hanging out like school kids seemed surreal considering the circumstances. But no, he didn’t have plans. He wondered, curiosity pinging his interest briefly, if Sanghyuk didn’t have plans either. No bucket list full of items to cross out, or schedules packed with visits and vacations and religious escapades. No purpose. 

“Thanks,” was all he replied. 

As he watched Sanghyuk go, tall figure receding into the crowd, Hongbin thought the comparison wasn’t too inaccurate. He was a university student, still a school kid in some way, looking barely younger than Hongbin himself. Early 20s, then. It was rare seeing someone still committed to education, Hongbin had dropped out years ago. Of course, with the newest information, the universities wouldn't be open much longer. Everyone still working there, the few staff and professors who hadn’t already quit, would be let go to spend the last few months as they willed. It was funny, he thought again, how society tried so hard to maintain a sense of normalcy so close to the end.

He pushed his chair in close to the table and made his way to the exit, pausing by the doors to take in the café again. The girl working the register met his eyes, and there was a tired understanding shared between them. Neither of them offered a smile. Hongbin turned and pushed his way out the doors to greet the fall air outside, wondering to himself how long the café would remain. Some people would keep working until the end. And some people would keep coming for a morning cup of coffee up until they couldn’t. Maybe by next week the last of the non essential stores would shut down, and he would have to find another place to spend his mornings, and maybe a month from now the buses he took around town would make their final loop. For now, he ducked into the bus stop overhang to escape the bite of the wind and waited for the next one to take him home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here goes, I'm not sure how this month will go but I'll do my best. Any thoughts, suggestions, or criticism is welcomed and will be taken into consideration when I'm writing the next parts!
> 
> As always, you can find me on [Instagram](https://instagram.com/MysticWysteria) and [ Twitter ](https://twitter.com/MysticWysteria) at @MysticWysteria


	2. Chapter 1 (Part 2/4)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second part of the first day

His apartment was cold when he stepped inside. He didn’t bother taking off his coat, but he hung his hat on the bare coat rack in its place and tucked his boots into the corner. A single leaf fell off the heel of one of them and lay there browned and frail. Hongbin could see the veins clearly where flesh had decomposed, leaving only a skeleton of its former self behind. He thought of how easy it would be to turn it into dust. How easily it could have already been pulverized if it had ended up beneath his boot rather than clinging to the back. He considered stepping on it there and then, just for the satisfaction, but he didn’t have the energy to clean up the aftermath. He picked it up instead and tossed it at the trash can, and it swirled through the air almost lazily before it disappeared.

The thermostat caught his eye on his way to his room. There was a twinge of longing in his chest as he shivered slightly, but he didn’t move to turn the heat up. He couldn’t afford that. He closed his bedroom door behind him instead and booted up his computer. It was slow to load, and far past its peak, but the familiar hum came as a comfort. Blue light filled the screen with the arrival of the operating system’s logo and the shadows across his face became more pronounced. The soft sound of keys on the keyboard filled the air as he punched in his password then tapped his foot in a rhythm against the ground as he waited for his account to load. After a pause, he pulled his phone out and began to dial a number.

“Hello?”

The corners of Hongbin’s mouth lifted slightly at the sound of the answering voice.

“Hey, Jae.”

“What’s going on?” 

“I just… I just wanted to check in on you, y'know, after the announcement and all.”

The line was silent for a second. Hongbin pulled open his email on the computer and hit refresh several times, but there was nothing new. There never was. 

“Right, that,” Jaehwan breathed out, “I’m… hanging in there, I guess. I’m with my parents right now.”

“At the hospital.”

Jaehwan’s swallow was audible over the line.

“Yeah. At the hospital. Moms doing alright, she says she misses you. Dad is… You know. He’s a tough guy. He’s still kicking.”

Hongbin hummed in reply.

“Of course he is. He’s never been one to go down without a fight.” Jaehwan made a small sound of pain, and Hongbin backpedaled. 

“You’re all stronger than you think, I mean. The whole lot of you, you’ve got that fighting energy, the strength to keep going. I know your dad is doing the best he can right now. Make sure you take care of yourself too, yeah?” His voice was slightly gruff, emotion bleeding through,  _ vulnerability showing _ . He pinched himself mentally.

“Thanks man! I’ll do my best too, you know I will,” 

Hongbin found himself in awe every time Jaehwan proved himself capable of staying positive even in the most grueling circumstances. How curious it was for someone to live with so much hope inside them. And for what, Hongbin wondered to himself, what was there to hold on to in the face of a certain end? He closed his email and sighed.

“I met someone at the cafe today.”

“You did? You like,  _ met _ someone? Oh that’s great, Bean, who?”

Hongbin grumbled in annoyance, but there was mirth there. 

“No one cute, don’t worry. He gave me his number though, said I could visit if I didn’t want to be alone.”

“He really said ‘ _ If you don’t want to be alone?’ _ Who is he to make assumptions, huh?” Jaehwan’s tone was teasing.

“Nah, but I could tell that’s what he meant. He’s not wrong, though. I haven’t kept in touch with anyone from uni, and my best friend is a city away visiting his parents. I might just take the kid up on that.”

“Oh! Speaking of that, I’m coming home next week! Don’t get too comfortable without me.”

“You decided to come back early? Shouldn’t you spend as much time with your family as you can, now?”

When Jaehwan replied, his voice was strained again. “I… the hotel fees aren’t cheap. It’s already been a few weeks, and you know I haven't been back to work since they let me off last month.”

It wasn’t anything he hadn’t been expecting, but the words still stung. Something turned over in his stomach, something that had been festering for a long time.

“They’re still charging, huh. 100 days before we die and they’re bleeding us out of our money as if it won’t be worthless a few weeks from now. It’s fucked up, that’s what this is, all of it. It’s not  _ right _ , Jae, and you know it.”

“You know the reason that things are this way.”

Jaehwan’s voice was not unkind, but no less firm for it.

“I know, but — ”

“ _ Hongbin. _ I’m coming home in a week, we’ll see each other then, okay? Something to look forward to.”

He wanted to argue again, but frustration gave out to affection the longer he sat on the line.

“Mm, who says I’m looking forward to seeing you?” 

Jaehwan laughed back with his usual brightness. “Take care, Bean.”

“You too, hyung, goodnight.”

The line went dead, and he slowly lowered the phone onto his lap. A flicker from the computer screen reminded him that he had turned it on for some purpose, but Hongbin found he didn’t have the energy to do much of anything. He shrugged off his shirt and collapsed into bed instead. The ceiling above him was dark around the edges from water leaks that weren’t repaired in time, and the patches of discoloration that looked down on him seemed to form a perpetual frown.   


_ You know the reason that things are this way _ . Of course he knew. It didn’t make it any less hard to bear. 

The first five years since the discovery had been nothing short of chaos. Money lost its value, because if it could not be saved, accumulated, or used in the future, then why work for a tomorrow that might not come? And so there had been riots, and then raids, then the cities had shut down to protect whatever capital remained. Then that, too, was stripped of meaning.

In the end, it was knowledge that the government seized to regain power. By withholding critical information provided by the astronomers and planetary geologists until the people agreed to listen, regional governments were able to coerce the population into some sense of order. Those years were among the darkest Hongbin had known, even though he had been so young, the memories were seared into his brain. The scars left behind were a violent red and painful in a way that overshadowed anything that came before it, snuffing out what little he might recall of the world he was first brought into like a weak flame under a boot. The planet had changed permanently, with the very meaning of humanity called into question, and countless lives were lost in the fallout. Hongbin wound his fingers tightly into the blankets as he pulled them over him, willing himself to push away the recollections, but they came steadily in waves that pulled him back under.

Every system had to be rebuilt in the decade that followed, put back together from the ground up, a ghost of what it once was. It was in spite of this new beginning that society was reconstructed as a mirror of its old self. The monetary system was reimposed, though the context had changed. With the lack of a future, money acquired was not for storing away or investing, its sole purpose was to acquire the means to make the years remaining as comfortable as possible. It was a sentiment that had been prevalent as long as there had been civilization, but now more than ever, all that mattered was the present. Memories of this time flitted by, vague and unfocused in his mind's eye, but he was easily able to fill in everything he had been unaware of in his young age with what he had later been taught. 

Jobs had slowly become available for people to earn living wages again: rebuilding what had been destroyed, educating the youth, and providing critical resources and supplies to communities. It came stiffly, unnaturally, frayed around the edges from years of psychological distress, and yet it came nonetheless because the only other option was death. 

Hongbin recalled the first year that colleges had reopened, nearly a decade ago, with doors draped in welcome banners several shades too bright and an atmosphere just on the wrong side of frigid. That was where he had reconnected with others for the first time. Sitting in a room filled with strangers who shared the same struggles, he found his voice again, and he discovered the depths of the bitterness that had settled inside of him. It hurt, everything hurt at first, but the pain had dissolved into an emptiness when he pictured his own death, and a bottomless resentment that frothed and simmered when he thought about anything else. The longer it boiled for, the more familiar he became with packing it down like gunpowder into a cartridge. 

_ It’s okay to let yourself feel, _ Jaehwan had told him. His first friend. There had been others too, but they had left in time. Hongbin had nowhere to go, and Jaehwan’s parents were sick, so they stuck together. Hongbin learned how to process his emotions in a way that wasn’t destructive. And Jaehwan… Hongbin had kept Jaehwan tethered to earth. Like a balloon, colorful and light, full of energy to take on the world so long as there was a string making sure he didn’t fly too far. Hongbin wondered if he would blow away if he didn’t have someone to anchor him.

The room went dark as the computer turned off from inactivity. The stillness only further agitated Hongbin as he lay there, and after a deep breath he rolled over and went as motionless as the screen was. Inactive, he thought blearily. Time seemed to pass faster and faster around him as the clock ticked down. Everyone around him was caught in its ceaseless pull and drawn into the whirlwind. There had to be others, people like him without a family or a passion or an old familiar career to which they could secure themselves and devote the rest of their time. 

He was drifting. Not in the way the Jaehwan drifted, untethered to reality, but disconnected from himself. 

The pillow was soft and forgiving under his cheek, so he gave into the tug and let his mind drift as well. As his consciousness slowly flickered out, Hongbin thought of Sanghyuk, his straightforwardness and nonchalance in the face of calamity. He wondered if Sanghyuk was drifting too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus concludes day 1!
> 
> As always, you can find me on [Instagram](https://instagram.com/MysticWysteria) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/MysticWysteria) at @MysticWysteria


	3. Chapter 1 (Part 3/4)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for how long it took me to update this! Thoughts are appreciated as always :)
> 
> As always, you can find me on [Instagram](https://instagram.com/MysticWysteria) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/MysticWysteria) at @MysticWysteria

The harsh metallic sound of his spoon falling into the bowl jerked Hongbin out of his stupor. His wrist was sore from where his head had been resting heavily into his palm and he stretched half-heartedly before getting up to dump the bowl in the sink. From somewhere further back in his apartment, the home phone began ringing, further agitating the dull pounding in his head. 

Another loud ding sounded out, this time from the cellphone in his pocket, and he had half a mind to chuck it out the window, consequences be damned. He pulled it out instead and squinted at the screen. _Oh._ It was Sanghyuk, asking him if everything was alright. Hongbin was supposed to be at his house a half hour ago. Wasn’t that just wonderful. In lieu of an apology, he shot back a text vaguely referencing heavy traffic, then slumped down onto the couch and lay there staring blankly ahead. He was so _tired_. Had existing always been this exhausting? 

With a toss of his head that dismissed further complaints from his internal monologue, he shoved his hands into his pockets and made his way out the door. The squeal that heralded his exit reminded him of how rarely he left the apartment, but greasing hinges was the farthest thing from his mind. It was an unusual thing, to be leaving home for something besides a visit to Jaehwan’s place or a cup of coffee to nurse on a morning spent in the café. 

It was the reassuring thrum of his car coming to life around him that gave him the last nudge he needed to commit to whatever _this_ was. Meeting someone new. Someone he’d never seen before. Making friends with this little time before they would inevitably be lost was nothing short of foolish, and he knew it, but the smallest part of him wanted to be foolish for a change. Even if slight, it felt like a quiet defiance to the general atmosphere that guided everyone's actions. _Keep your loved ones close. Have caution with what is new. Hold tight to what you know._ Hongbin had never been one to throw caution to the wind. He let that resolve settle firmly and fuel his movements, following the criss-cross of roads through the city, and landing him in a parking garage beneath an apartment building that looked suspiciously like a college dormitory. It was, he realized after a moment, vaguely becoming aware of their proximity to the university. It made sense. Sanghyuk had been a college kid, after all.

Or was he still? Was the preservation of the university itself the deciding factor in whether or not someone was still a student? Sanghyuk might not still be attending, but that had been entirely out of his control. The boy hadn’t wanted his education cut short. None of them had.

He paused in front of the apartment door, referring briefly to his phone to confirm the number was right, then announced his presence with a few sharp knocks. Something about the silence of the building gave him the impression that it didn’t have many visitors—or occupants, for that matter. Everyone must have gone home to be with their families, their loved ones. Whoever remained must be… he couldn’t finish the thought because the door had eased open a crack and an unfamiliar face was scrutinizing him through the gap.

“Are you here for something?”

Hongbin blinked back.

“Ah, I was invited by Sanghyuk? Is he here? I was supposed to meet him… about an hour ago.”

The other man’s expression crinkled into a smile that was pleasant despite the distrust plain in the way he had held the door. It swung all the way open now and Hongbin could see into the kitchen and the main room beyond it, where the kid from the café lay sprawled on the couch. He glanced up and waved as Hongbin stepped inside.

“Hey, Hongbin, right?” Sanghyuk got to his feet and made his way over then held his hand out as an offering. Hongbin took it, rather confused by the gesture, and found himself pulled forward and clapped on the back.

“I didn’t tell you my name,” he deadpanned. Sanghyuk shrugged. 

“It’s on your shirt, man.” 

He glanced down, and sure enough, it was the shirt with his full name embroidered across the breast pocket. 

“I forgot I ever worked a normal job,” he said with a wry smile, and Sanghyuk laughed back.

“You worked in customer service? This is Hakyeon, by the way, the roommate I mentioned before.”

Hongbin turned back to the man he had first greeted and assessed him properly. He was almost Hongbin’s height, but lean and graceful to Hongbin’s sharp angles and broader frame. Hakyeon carried himself with all the elegance of a performance artist, and he flashed Hongbin a smile from where he had come to perch on the countertop.

“You were in the dance club. At uni.” Hongbin spoke the words almost accusingly, but Hakyeon only grinned wider.

“I was the leader, actually,” he said with more than a touch of pride. Sanghyuk sighed, as though this was a fact he was well acquainted with. 

“That's very nice and all, I’m sure Hongbin would love to hear all about how you taught a team of twenty-five a self-choreographed routine to perform in front of the whole stadium during junior year, but we haven’t even gotten settled yet. You guys can sit wherever, but I’m calling the couch.”

There was a hint of immaturity in his voice, one that Hongbin scowled at internally. He trailed behind the other two, not bothering to hide his assessment of their dorm as they made their way into the living room. True to his word, Sanghyuk flung himself back down on the couch he had originally been laying on and filled the entire length with a body that seemed almost too long to be proportional. Hakyeon gestured towards the two chairs that sat adjacent to it and claimed one for himself. He left the middle seat, right in between Hakyeon’s own one and the couch where Sanghyuk lay, open for Hongbin to take. So he was making a conscious effort to let Hongbin warm up to the both of them. Perhaps in another timeline, he wouldn’t find it so suspicious, but as it was he found himself edging back towards distrust. This, apparently, was also a sentiment he decided to share out loud.

“Why did you invite me here? They say there's no point in making new relationships. Not anymore.”

Hakyeon hummed thoughtfully, while Sanghyuk blinked back. Neither seemed very surprised. In fact, Hongbin thought rather curiously, Hakyeon looked almost amused.

“I didn’t peg you for the type of person who’d care about what ‘they’ say. At least, not from Sanghyuk’s description. Maybe I was wrong.”

“You’re not wrong. I could care less,” he stated a bit more bluntly than he intended. “I just wasn’t expecting it. From what I’ve seen, this hasn’t exactly been the time for communal empathy. Everyone has more or less isolated themselves with the people they care about, and those are doors that never seemed very open to anyone else. Hard to believe that you and the school kid are here to make friends when you could be scrambling to fulfill on your final wishes, cross the last items off your bucket list, and whatnot.”

The weight of eyes on him felt almost heavy on him in the following silence, but he looked from one to the other with his chin raised.

“To a certain extent, nothing is meaningless,” Hakyeon mused, his head tilted to the side. “And definitely not human connection. Even if you went home right now and we never saw each other again, our existence still left an impression on each other's lives. Death can’t take that away.”

Sanghyuk cleared his throat with considerable impatience.

“Do you think he came all this way to talk about dying? Pass me the remote hyung, I found a few movies that sounded cool.”

Hakyeon grabbed a remote that sat by his feet and pushed back in a battery that had been falling out. It landed in Sanghyuks hands a moment later and the small TV screen came to life. Hongbin watched with a sort of wonder at the domestic familiarity he found himself in the presence of. The haphazardly placed remote, the knowing looks shared easily between friends, and the assorted clutter on knick-knacks on the coffee table was a near painful reminder of a time he’d never known. There was no normal to return to, not that he had been alive to remember. Hongbin prided himself in the way he stayed present to the moment, never letting himself cling to the past or think too much about the future, but something twinged inside of him that felt too close to longing for comfort. There was nothing to long for. Normalcy, too, was an illusion. 

_Nothing is meaningless. Definitely not human connection._ Hongbin cast a glance at the TV where a selection of movies was being thumbed through, then at the boy holding the remote, then pursed his lips.

“What kind of movies are you guys into?”

“I’m a bit of a horror enthusiast, but Hakyeon’s into like… historical dramas? Long, romanticized movies? The real plot intensive shit, y’know.” Sanghyuk waved his hand dismissively and Hakyeon grinned.

“Mm, that’s the good stuff. At least my taste is realistic _and_ nice to think about. Your taste is more or less our reality, and just as unpleasant.” 

Sanghyuk huffed and rolled from where he lay on his back looking at the TV onto his stomach to prop himself up on his elbows and stare Hakyeon down sullenly.

“It’s different when it’s someone _else’s_ fucked up reality. It’s _spicy_ horror, man. You wouldn’t get it, too caught up in your royal princes and their dramatic confessions to appreciate the masterful art of suspense.”

“And gore,” Hakyeon supplied, and Sanghyuk grumbled again. “Yeah. And gore.”

Hongbin’s brow was furrowed slightly.

“Princes?” 

“Yeah. Hakyeon’s all over the gay shit; if a film exists with two attractive male leads that are by God’s good grace attracted to each other as well, you can bet he’s watched it. Why, you mind?” Sanghyuk’s voice sharpened at the end of the sentence, side-eyeing Hongbin who promptly spluttered and tripped over his words.

“I— No— Of course not, I don’t care. I just... I didn’t know.” He ended with a half-hearted shrug that he hoped would pass as nonchalant. Hakyeon only laughed again.

“What, you couldn’t tell just from looking at me?” He cocked his hip further to one side on the chair and placed a hand on his hip dramatically. When Hongbin stared back wordlessly, the amusement in his smile dampened slightly, but his gaze was no less warm. 

“I’m sure the world has bigger problems right now than boys who make out sometimes. Besides, you were drawn in enough by Hyukie to come over here after only seeing him once, that's gotta say something. In case you’re interested in knowing, he swings every which way—like a wrecking ball, I’d say. It’s rather fitting.” The quip ended with a playful wink, one that Sanghyuk met with a rude gesture and some colorful words under his breath. Both of them were smiling at each other now. 

The same sense of familiarity washed over Hongbin again. He found himself reminded of Jaehwan and the comfortable companionship that came with being in the presence of someone he was intimately acquainted with. The teasing jibes, the contentment even in silence, the quiet pull that kept them orbiting each other and preventing one another from drifting too far. It seemed ironic that something so natural, so essential to human nature, would meet the same end as everything else. 

But that was then. And the present was the present, and right now Sanghyuk had opened a movie that he assured them both was  _ ‘Appealing to a variety of different tastes!’ _ and it didn’t seem half-bad.

“Let’s watch then.”


	4. Chapter 1 (Part 4/4)

Hongbin wasn’t sure why he came out here. He was here, though, elbows on his knees and head in his palms, sitting on some concrete steps down by the Han River.

The river was whispering before him. It was less of a whisper, really, more of a constant stream of layered voices that mixed and overlapped before being washed away. Hongbin watched it flow with tired eyes. The moisture in the air clung to his lashes and the tips of his hair where it hung low in front of his face and he dabbed at it absently with the sleeve of his sweater. It made no difference; the fog was too thick, the spray from the river meeting rocks too vicious.

It wasn’t that he found it was peaceful out here. If anything, the sound of the river crashing and the birds crying overhead was an overwhelming influx of sensations that clashed unpleasantly with the clamor in his head. It was just preferable to sitting alone in his apartment.

The apartment didn’t quite feel like his anymore anyways. Borrowed space, he grumbled to himself and kicked a pebble down the shore. Not that it hadn’t been borrowed from the beginning; only the landlord laid proper claim to it, the property was only his to occupy as long as he kept the payments coming. Even then, though, he used to feel some attachment to the place where he woke up in the morning and returned to every night. Now the concept of home felt more abstract, further distanced from himself. Maybe it was only natural; in the end, he was living on borrowed time.

He pulled his coat tighter around himself and huddled deeper into its warmth. A gift from Jaehwan, three years ago. _For you, Binnie, when the winter gets too cold. Or when you miss me too much. You’ll miss me, right?_ Hongbin closed his eyes and shivered.

A part of him that he didn’t want to give in to yearned to pull his friend close, hold him tight and feel the rise and fall of his chest, listen to the muffled words whispered into his hair telling him that things would be alright. Empty lies. They weren’t meant to be truthful anyways, just a brief reminder of what comfort felt like. That love could still exist. 

Jaehwan deserved love if anyone ever did. It was unfair, Hongbin thought bitterly, and not for the first time, that someone as bright and pure as Jaehwan was living in the same timeline as the rest of them. It wasn’t that other people deserved to die more than Jaehwan did, that wasn’t fair… so what was it, then? That part of a person that believes so sincerely that the ones they love always deserve just that much more from life than anyone else. The part that _knows_ that the people they hold the closest are special, more beautiful, more _worthy_. If that were true, though, then everyone would survive. Love wasn’t enough to end an apocalypse before it starts, loving Jaehwan wouldn’t save him, and Hongbin hated himself for it. 

The wind was brutal in his face and cold air stung his flesh where it struck. It was no weather to be outside in, much less go for a walk. Hongbin didn’t turn around, didn’t start the trek back to his apartment, didn’t reach into his phone to call Jaehwan despite how desperate he was to hear his friend’s voice. He kept walking, letting his feet drag in the snow, and leaving behind a trail of muddied slush.

Not far up ahead was the café, an oasis of warmth against the cold blues and grays of the winter landscape. It drew him in like it always did, and he was helpless to it.

“Good morning,” the cashier greeted as he walked through the door and consequently set off the familiar jingle of a bell. Hongbin offered him a smile. It was the same man that he always saw inside—the café would be short-staffed, it made sense. 

“You still working here?” Hongbin asked as he made his way up to the front. The scent of fresh bread filled the air here and the bagels behind the glass seemed increasingly appetizing.

“Half of my coworkers quit, but I don’t mind staying behind. It gives me something to do, and I get to talk to people and share stories and all. I’d miss the human connection too much if I left,” the man said.

Asking if he had anyone else in his life besides the customers of the café to spend time with seemed a bit too personal, so Hongbin pointed at the screen above his head.

“I’d like a coffee and a blueberry bagel—with plain cream cheese, please.”

The cashier rang him up after passing some words along to an older woman who went off to fetch his order, 

“That makes sense,” he added as he pulled his card out of his wallet. “You know, staying here to work even now. I quit my job earlier this year so I could focus on gaming.”

“Gaming? Like, multiplayer? Are there enough other people to do that?” 

“Oh yeah, for sure. A lot of people love the familiarity of it. Plus it's satisfying—checking objectives off a list, working with other people to get things done, it feels productive in a way that real life no longer does.”

“I see,” the cashier hummed, then nodded his head down towards the far end of the counter where the woman was standing with his order. “My shift ends in 15 minutes, but I’ll see you another day then.”

Hongbin raised his hand in both appreciation and farewell and carried the tray to the back corner where he usually sat. The coffee was too hot to drink so he cupped it in his hands and let the warmth seep into his skin. It wasn’t enough. 

_Your hands are always so cold, Binnie. Is there an icebox inside you? Don’t say you have a frozen heart, you’ve worn that joke into the ground. Here, give me your hands. I’ll warm them up._

The bagel was warm too. The cream cheese melted in his mouth, and that was nice, but it wasn’t Jaehwan.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. The motions came naturally after so many years of practice.

“ _Hello?_ ” The voice on the other side was tinny, distant.

“Jae.”

“ _Mm, Binnie, how you doing? We’ve gotta be quick, I don’t know how long I can talk._ ”

“Alright. Same as always, though. You?”

Jaehwan sighed. 

“ _I don’t know, honestly. I miss being home. I miss talking to people. But I know that if I was home right now, I’d be missing my parents. Mom would say something about how we always want what we don’t have. It’s funny, right?_ ”

A pause. Then, as though answering his own rhetorical question, “ _It’s not funny at all. I don’t know what to do._ ”

“None of us do,” Hongbin said quietly, “and no one expects you to know what to do either. But I trust that you’ll always do what you feel is best—whether you stay with them longer or come home at the end of the week, I’ll keep believing in you.”

“ _Thanks Bean… and thanks for calling, too, but I really have to go, okay? I just… I’ll talk to you later._ ”

“Yeah,” he said back, voice almost cracking. “Okay. See you then.”

“ _See you._ ”

The line went dead. 

That hadn’t gone on for nearly as long as he had hoped. Something still felt incomplete despite him having heard the voice he had been longing to hear again all day. The phone felt too heavy in his hands, dull and black and lifeless. A sip of his coffee didn’t bring back any sense of life, nor did finishing the rest of the bagel and watching the crumbs on the plate tremble ever so slightly when someone walked by. At last he got to his feet and put the tray away before tossing the rest of his unfinished coffee in the trash.

 _Someone could’ve finished that,_ Jaehwan would’ve said. Jaehwan, who would have been the one to finish it. Jaehwan, who was still an entire city away, the echo of his voice still ringing in Hongbin’s ear. Is this the first sign of insanity, he wondered as he walked out the door. Hearing the voice of your friend in your ear annoying you even while miles away. He kicked a pebble and watched it skip and skitter until it came to rest in the grass. He kicked another pebble. There was an answered crash from behind him, and Hongbin didn't think it was the pebble.

He needed a distraction, that much was obvious. Perhaps that was why he turned around and peered curiously in the direction of the sound. It shouldn’t be unusual, but it was, so he let his feet lead him against anyone's best judgment towards the employee entrance around back. 

The noises from behind the café only got louder as Hongbin approached. It was sporadic and halted, as though the action was being performed rather clumsily, then there was the rush of water being poured. Hongbin furrowed his brow. It really shouldn’t concern him. Employees threw things out back all the time. Then a scent hit him abruptly then and he stilled. That wasn't water being poured. It was _gas_. 

“Hey,” a familiar voice greeted him as he rounded the corner. There was a figure there, visibly relaxed as he stood in the narrow lot behind the dumpster just wide enough to fit one car, a large object in hand. After a moment he realized why the man looked so familiar: it was the cashier from the café. Hongbin stared.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m Wonshik,” the man replied casually, as though they hadn’t just spoken fifteen minutes ago and his name would somehow answer the question. The object in his hand _was_ , in fact, a gas can, and the contents appeared to have been dumped in with the garbage. Hongbin wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but he found himself dumbfounded regardless.

“Okay. Wonshik. Are you starting a dumpster fire?”

The man—Wonshik—flashed him a lopsided grin. “I’m burning the café down,” he said nonchalantly, “Want to help?”

“Do I— _What_?” The words wouldn’t quite form. “Are you asking if I want to help with arson?”

Wonshik didn’t say anything to that, although he did sigh in a way that indicated he was rather tired of the conversation already, then he handed over what seemed to be a beer bottle. Except-

“Is this a _bomb_?”

“Do you want to help me or not? You can hand it back if you want, call the cops even if it suits you, we both know that they’re not going to give a shit. Besides, that’d be much less fun.”

Hongbin stared some more. This hadn’t been what he thought he’d find, but it was a distraction if there ever was one. It was a jarring reminder of the days when such activities were commonplace, but those memories would be with him regardless of whether or not he made new ones. In spite of himself Hongbin smiled, more of a quirk of his mouth than anything. His impression of the café cashier was steadily improving.

“Alright. Sure. I’ll burn this place down with you, man.”

“Great,” Wonshik continued as if this was an answer he had been anticipating, “It’s a petrol bomb, by the way, you’re right. When I say so, I’ll open the window and you just need to throw it through while I light the dumpster. I left the gas on inside so the whole place will go up in flames once the molotov explodes, and the dumpster fire will take care of—” he stopped then shrugged. “Forget it. You ready?”

This was decidedly not how he had envisioned his evening going. Hongbin found himself wondering what point was too late to turn around and walk back to the mundane gray block of his apartment.

Hell with it. “Yeah, I’m ready.” 

  
“Great, then _go,_ ” Wonshik said, then he threw the window open and lit his match with a spark. Time froze for an instant as the match fell into the dumpster and Hongbin’s heart caught in his throat. The flames licked up immediately, casting a warm glow onto his face, and he watched them climb higher with a mix of horror and awe. Then the adrenaline caught up to him and he hurled the bottle into the building. 

The explosion was instantaneous. Wonshik had caught him by the arm and was dragging him backward and away from the devastation. His foot caught on a pipe laying on the ground then they were falling, past the drop off just beyond the edge of the parking lot, and down the grassy incline.

“Ow, _fuck_ ,” Hongbin was gasping out before he could get a sense of which way was up and he had finally stopped tumbling, back throbbing and ankle burning fiercely. He sucked in breaths desperately once, twice, then lay there waiting for the awful ringing in his ears to subside.

“Congratulations,” Wonshik whispered breathlessly from beside him. “You just blew up the last café in our part of town.”

It took a second for the words to process. “Are you going to _frame me_ for this?”

To his disbelief, Wonshik cackled. Then he sat up and spit into the grass, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then shook his head with lingering amusement.

“This has nothing to do with you. And at the same time, kid, it has everything to do with you.”

That was a non-answer if he had ever heard one. “Don’t call me kid. And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Do you really want to sit and talk with our backs blackened by smoke, just waiting for the next person to walk by? I’m going to get cleaned up, you can tag along.”

It would’ve been in his best interest, Hongbin thought, to turn around and walk away at that point. A little late to avoid any real engagement with this man, but perhaps not too late to save himself from further trouble. It was also out of humanity's best interest, however, for the circumstances to encourage people to blow up cafés. One's best interest wasn’t quite as meaningful as it might have been. In his own personal interest, though? Wonshik sure as hell seemed interesting.

“Cool,” he said, getting to his feet as well, “Let’s go.”

So they went, Hongbin following Wonshik a pace behind, nursing a slight limp, and inexplicably content with the knowledge thrumming through his veins that against the odds, and despite the circumstances, he had finally _done_ something. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thus concludes Chapter 1! 
> 
> As always, you can find me on [Instagram](https://instagram.com/MysticWysteria) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/MysticWysteria) at @MysticWysteria


	5. Chapter 2 (Part 1)

Wonshik’s apartment was, in the best way that Hongbin could put it, a fortress of organized chaos. It was concerningly well secured, although that was less questionable considering that the man had just committed a large and public federal crime and had probably already amassed a number of enemies, but the number of deadbolts was unsettling nonetheless. Rather than paying them too much attention, though, Hongbin opted to poke around as much as he could without overstepping the unspoken boundary that was clear in the sharp glances Wonshik cast him whenever he leaned in to scrutinize something a little closer. 

Where there might have been framed portraits or paintings hanging up on the walls there was nothing but flecks of dust and patches of discoloration. Desks and drawers and tables sat in every single corner in the absence of standard decorations, each overflowing with stacks of paper that threatened to collapse onto the various monitors and screens they neighbored. It was all very interesting, truly, but there was something else that took precedence in Hongbin’s mind.

“So why did you blow up the café?”

Wonshik’s brow furrowed. If not in outright disapproval, then it was in clear discontent.

“I disagree with the government,” he said. And wasn’t that a wonderful explanation. Clearly the man had quite a knack for clearing up ambiguous situations.

“You said it had to do with me,” Hongbin pressed. 

Something flashed behind Wonshik’s eyes.

“We all live here. Everyone is impacted. Me, you, every person in this city.”

“So why,” Hongbin said with far less patience than he would’ve liked, “Did we blow up a fucking building if these many people are impacted?”

The frown returned as though it had never left. “I can’t tell you.” Then Wonshik let a small puff of air escape his lips and looked back up. If he had been discontent before, now he only looked tired.

“We’re being exploited. I think we all know it even if we don’t have the vocabulary to put it into words or the resources to do anything about it. The way things are right now—it’s unstable, unsustainable—it was never _meant_ to be sustained. We all knew that the system only benefited those at the top before the news broke and the riots began, but we were told that it was brought back because it was familiar. It was what we knew best. When you think about it, though, it wasn’t our _choice_ to begin with. It never was. They didn’t bring back the old ways for our sake, they brought it back because it’s always worked in their best interest. 

“And now more than ever they can get what they need from the working class and spend their last months in luxury. They can’t be held accountable after that, we’ll all be gone and they know that, all they need to do is keep us in check until the world ends. What better way to do that than have us work to survive?”

That was a lot of words. A little over half of them had actually registered, but they were words that pointed in a direction that interested him. 

“We can hold them accountable _now_ , though, is what you’re saying.”

Wonshik hummed.

“Something like that. The café was to make a statement more than anything—they made everyone work insanely long shifts if they didn’t have the privilege of quitting just to keep the place running. It's taking advantage of people who have no choice but to accept it. I told you before that I didn’t leave because I liked the people—but if I don’t work, I can’t pay rent, and an eviction is the last thing I need with only 13 weeks left.”

Hongbin gestured around him. 

“Your job is very clearly gone now, so you’re sacrificing this place of yours for the sake of… making a statement?”

He wasn’t trying to be judgemental, only echoing the information he was hearing. Wonshik glared nonetheless.

“Something like that,” he said again. Then he shook his head and turned around, nodding towards a short hallway that was partially obscured by yet another oddly placed table. 

“I’m going to go shower. You can join me if you want, or wash your face in the kitchen sink and change your clothes. I have some you can borrow in my room.”

“The sink sounds good,” Hongbin said with careful decisiveness. Wonshik shrugged and disappeared into his room. He reappeared a minute later holding a pair of gray sweatpants and a large hoodie. That was _not_ going to fit him, but anything was preferable to his own shirt that clung to his skin, torn from the fall and blackened by smoke.

“Leave your dirty clothes in a bag and I’ll throw it in the washer when I get out,” Wonshik instructed, then he was gone again.

 _I have my own washing machine_ , Hongbin thought sourly, but he stripped out of his clothes anyways. _A bag…_ Wonshik had left out any mention of where he could find bags of any sort. Not that he was opposed to looking for one himself. It was with perhaps a little too much excitement that he turned back to the chaos around him.

There was only one room in this part of the apartment outside of the doors down the hallway leading to what he assumed were the bedroom and bathroom. The main room might have been spacious at one point in time, but the clutter against every wall made it seem cramped in a way that set him slightly off-kilter. The other part, accessible through a gap between a chair and a black box that reminded Hongbin of a CPU if not for the curious additions that jutted off like the artistic architecture of a modern skyscraper, was the absolute bare bones of a kitchen. 

Against the wall were two cabinets with a microwave between them, then a stove below that looked as though it had survived several world wars. The refrigerator to its left was small enough that Hongbin couldn’t imagine it could hold more than half a week's worth of food. Carefully, knowing Wonshik could step out any moment, Hongbin opened one of the cabinets and peered inside. There were a few plates and a single glass, but no bags. He opted to dump his clothes on a blessedly unoccupied chair instead and turned on the kitchen sink. 

The water was cold and goosebumps erupted on his arms as he ran his hands under the stream. After a pause to let himself adjust to the temperature, Hongbin lifted a handful to splash onto his face and let the dirty streaks be swept down the drain. He washed his arms next, grabbing a bar of soap to scrub the remaining residue from his skin. By the time he had finished he was shivering and running his hands up and down his bare sides as though he could draw warmth out from inside him.

He found the clothes that Wonshik had left him sitting in a heap outside the hallway and he stepped into them gratefully. The sweatpants, fortunately, had a drawstring to save them from falling off his hips and pooling at his feet. The sweater was long enough to reach his mid-thighs when it pulled it over his head and his hands disappeared beneath the sleeves. If he had been here, Jaehwan would’ve giggled childishly and slapped him with the sweater paws. Hongbin only let out a small sigh and buried himself deeper into the clothes.

It wasn’t that he was short by any means, he prided himself on being just on the taller side of average, Wonshik was just… _big_. Tall, broad, muscular... Hongbin would be lying if he said he didn’t find the man intimidating. 

“You look good in that.” 

Hongbin startled out of his thoughts. “Excuse me?”

“I said, you look good in my clothes.” Wonshik’s tone was as casual as it always seemed to be as he stepped out of the bathroom. One towel was tied around his waist and another was slung over his shoulder, and he used it to roughly run through his own wet hair. He threw Hongbin some sort of look that made his stomach turn over then closed the bathroom door behind him and walked into his bedroom.

If he had been unsettled before, now Hongbin was both confused and shaken. He wasn’t new to men flirting with him, or people of any gender for that manner, but there was something very different about the same compliments thrown at him when he was standing defenseless in the apartment of a stranger. A stranger who, considering the events of the day, was clearly capable of many things.

The door handle to outside was turning beneath his hand before he could debate his circumstances any further. He needed to get home, _now_.

“Hey.” 

Hongbin actually jumped this time, the door halfway open, one foot already out. Wonshik took a step back and held up both hands.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I realized that probably came off wrong. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I forgot we don’t actually know each other well. You just seem like someone I’d be close to, yknow?” He was fully clothed, now, back in another pair of black jeans and a fitted t-shirt. As Hongbin watched warily he dipped into the small kitchen and pulled something out.

“You can go, kid, I’m not going to stop you,” Wonshik called out over the sound of the microwave turning on.

Rebellion sparked inside him again. Suddenly, walking away was no longer a viable option. 

“Don’t call me kid.” Hongbin stepped back into the apartment and closed the door behind him. Stranger danger be damned, he was hungry again. Wonshik brought out two plates, each with a slice of microwaved pizza, and set them down on a random table after clearing it off. Hongbin pulled up a chair after another moment of hesitation.

“Dominos?”

Wonshik hummed and shook his head. “Mr. Pizza,” he mumbled around his first bite. Classic. It wasn’t that bad either for being what appeared to be several days old, and Hongbin’s stomach rumbled appreciatively.

“How long have you been working at the cafe?”

“Lost count of the years, honestly. Been there since I graduated college—five years? Six?”

“Ah, what’d you study?” Hongbin found himself genuinely curious.

“Political science.”

Well that made sense. As though he could sense Hongbin’s thoughts, Wonshik cracked a smile. “Not surprised, huh.”

“You just seem knowledgeable in the area, that’s all,” Hongbin replied with a mirroring grin of his own. It lacked genuine amusement, but it was a smile nonetheless. The other man nodded in agreement.

“It’s always been a passion of mine, I guess. I’ve always wanted to be able to make an impact on the world. Specifically in a way that makes life for people like me just that much better.”

“People like you?”

“People without much money,” Wonshik said bluntly. Then he cocked his head and flashed another smile. “You got some yourself?”

Hongbin wrinkled his nose. “I’m barely scraping by.”

“Mmm. You said you don’t work. Must have something saved up, huh?”

He did, at one point. His relatives had left him a sizable amount and it had gotten him through college up until he dropped out. College, where he met Jaehwan, his best friend who Hongbin soon realized could no longer keep up with the hospital bills for his parents. So Hongbin helped, and as the years dragged on, his account was steadily depleted. He still had enough to pay his rent, but that was it. 

“Not anymore.” The truth should hurt, but it didn’t. The money had gone where it was most needed. The answer, however, only seemed to make Wonshik suspicious.

“You spend it all? Trying to live your best life while you can?” Wonshik's gaze had hardened and something inside Hongbin twisted again, this time in anger.

“Yeah. On hospital bills.”

Wonshik flinched. _Deserved_ , Hongbin thought. It wasn’t a question that should’ve been asked to begin with.

“I’m sorry,” Wonshik began, then he stopped. “I thought you were going to turn out to be like the others. People who spend all their wealth on making their lives comfortable, while everyone else…” His voice lost strength like a balloon slowly deflating. “I’m genuinely sorry, though, about whatever happened for you to have your money drained that way. That’s honestly one of the reasons why I do… what I do. I don’t think anyone should have to give that much just to stay alive.”

“It’s the way things are.” The words hurt to say. He didn’t believe them himself. Things would always be a certain way, yes, but that didn’t mean that’s how they _should_ be. Yet he wanted, he _needed_ Wonshik to say more. To challenge him, to argue back, share his own thoughts. Hongbin would be damned if he went home without figuring out the mystery that was this man's motives.

“Is it?” There was a low note in Wonshik’s voice, reminiscent of the rumbling of a distant storm. Then the dangerous look about him dissipated as quickly as it had come. “I feel useless, sometimes. Like no matter how hard I protest, how many books I read or articles I write, I’ll never make enough of an impact to actually _matter_.”

“Maybe you don’t need to impact _everyone_ to make a difference,” Hongbin said carefully. He wasn’t used to being the one giving reassurance, much less to people he had only just met. The words felt stiff and unnatural even to his own ears, so he tried again. “I’m not one to speak, but I think that even if a few lives were made easier because of what you’ve worked for, then your effort still matters.”

Wonshik offered a sad smile. “I want to help everyone. A few people isn’t enough. Besides, if you knew the extent to which I wanted to change the world, you might not be as supportive.”

There it was again, that element of danger that made Hongbin’s heartbeat quicken. It struck him, for what might be the third time, that he was still alone in this apartment with the man who blew up his favorite café—the _only_ café they had. Sitting here now, though, with his hair falling in front of his eyes and pizza grease on his fingers, he was less intimidating. Soft, almost, as he looked up curiously at Hongbin through lashes heavy from either exhaustion or disappointment—Hongbin wasn’t sure which. 

“What are you thinking?” Wonshik asked softly.

“That I should probably head home.”

Clearing his throat, Wonshik stood up and collected their plates. “Okay,” he said agreeably enough, “You gonna take your clothes?”

Hongbin paused.

“What happened to you washing them for me?”

“I mean, I still can,” Wonshik replied slowly, turning to look at him.

“Great. Just making sure we have to meet up again.” The minute after the words had left his mouth Hongbin was regretting them. He turned and ducked his head so as to hide the flush on his face. 

_Trauma bonds people_ , Jaehwan had said back when Hongbin had been wondering aloud what had brought the two of them so close together. _It’s natural to be close to people that you have a shared experience with._

Jaehwan had been referring to the collective experience of living in the era of the asteroid, but Hongbin wondered if arson was one of those experiences that could bring two strangers together and make them feel as if they weren’t truly strangers at all.

To his surprise, Wonshik laughed. “You’re wearing my clothes, kid,” he pointed out. “I’m going to need those back at some point anyway.”

 _Right_. “I know that,” Hongbin said indignantly, despite the fact that he had very much forgotten. He was suddenly more conscious of the space he was occupying as he stood there in the main room—the living room? It seemed rather ambiguous. The way Wonshik was looking at him was ambiguous enough for him to follow up on his plan to get going, though, so he raised his hand in an awkward farewell.

“See you again?” It was supposed to be a statement but it ended with enough of a lilt that it couldn't be mistaken as anything but a question. Wonshik nodded affirmatively, so Hongbin let himself outside to go find the nearest bus stop and take himself home. It was only after he had claimed a window seat 15 minutes later and was staring out the window watching the buildings blur by that he realized that he had never gotten Wonshik’s number. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly surprised I got a new update out this soon. I've finally fleshed out the plot to a more significant degree, and things are starting to look smoother. 
> 
> As always, you can find me on [Instagram](https://instagram.com/MysticWysteria) and [ Twitter ](https://twitter.com/MysticWysteria) at @MysticWysteria


End file.
